


Hiraeth

by have-a-little-laith (LWritesx)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5+1 Things, Bilingual Lance (Voltron), Comfort, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Internal Conflict, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Love Confessions, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-13 17:09:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13575123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LWritesx/pseuds/have-a-little-laith
Summary: the one time Lance speaks Spanish and is made fun of for it, the four times he wants to speak Spanish but doesn't, and the bonus one where he does.





	Hiraeth

**Author's Note:**

> been playing around with this idea in my head, so here we are <3
> 
> the italics are spanish, i was too lazy to translate. advance apologies for putting our blue boy through some Langst™.
> 
> not edited or beta'ed.

_Hiraeth (Welsh, n.) -_ _a longing for a home you can't return to; the grief for the lost places of your past._

**[1]**

When Lance was five, his family moved to America. He immediately began to note differences between himself and the other children. He was darker than everyone else. He didn't speak the same language as they did. He didn't play the same games as they did. His mother had kept him at home for a whole year, trying her best to teach him English, trying to teach him the difference between living in America and living in Cuba. And Lord knew how poor Lance struggled to adjust. It was hard to break old habits.

He constantly got mixed up with English and Spanish; he found it hard to differentiate certain words and certain feelings. Whenever he couldn't, he just burst into random bouts of Spanish. It was easier for him that way. Until his mother had told him he couldn't speak Spanish at school, because they wouldn't understand him.

He was dejected, but didn't object. In fact, he tried his hardest to learn English properly, trying to perfect it. But when he spoke, you could hear the small accent in his voice if you listened carefully. Lance hated it.

On his first day of school, he made a friend. He was from a place called  _Sah-moe-ah_ , in _Polee-nee-zeia_ , and like Lance, he had a small accent. He was dark brown and a bit on the chubby side. He had the friendliest eyes and biggest smile in the class, and he wore the _coolest_ orange headband under his hair.

For some reason, nobody wanted to play with him and Lance, so they sat together on the sandbox, Lance filling small buckets of sand, patting them down before flipping upside down, and the boy making small indentations in the sand Lance had flipped. Their sandcastle, after they finished, was a masterpiece. The boy's name was Tsuyoshi, but he told Lance that his moms called him Hunk, because he was their hunk of joy, so he could call him Hunk too. Lance traded him a cookie for some bubblegum, and they instantly became best friends that recess.

They started the evening period with Mathematics.

"Class, can anyone tell me how much is thirty subtract ten?" their teacher asked.

Lance knew the answer. He put his hand in the air.

"Yes Lance?" his teacher pointed at him.

"Is it...Is it _forty?_ " he asked shyly, momentarily forgetting the English and saying 'forty' in Spanish

"Sorry Lance," his teacher said, "Thirty subtract ten is twenty, not forty. You did the opposite and added ten to thirty. And I would like you to speak English in class from now on, okay?"

Hunk looked at him with pity as the others laugh at him.

One even snorts out, "Moron. He can't even speak English," pretty mercilessly.

The teacher shuts them up, however, defending Lance and berating the students, telling them it's okay to be different. 

He bows his head so she can't see his glassy eyes. He doesn't feel okay knowing that he's different, though. He decides he'll never speak, especially in Spanish, or raise his hand in class again. 

 

**[2]**

One of Lance's classes in Junior High is Spanish. Of all the subjects in the world, it had to be Spanish. What luck.

Lance doesn't say anything in the classes, and has to listen to his classmates and teacher butcher his mother tongue with their stupid _accented_ Spanish. His parents were disappointed in him, he could tell. 

They knew he could have been first place in Spanish every term.

They also knew Lance couldn't handle the bullying, so they respected his choice. But it hurt them to know that he was ashamed of his roots.

"Can anyone translate the paragraph?" his pudgy teacher demanded.

"Buddy, you can do this," Hunk said, nudging him.

Oh, Lance knows he can. In fact, he can translate the whole paragraph into Spanish without missing a beat. He doesn't though, because he knows his classmates will call him nerd, looser, suck-up, all the hurtful names in the book. And he doesn't want to have to deal with that. 

"I'll feel like I'll be cheating if I do," Lance said, forcing a smile.

"Lance," Hunk faced him, with a serious expression on his face, "You shouldn't be afraid of them. Spanish-- you speaking your native tongue-- that's part of your identity. That's part of who you are, bud. And you have fun when you do it. I know you do. If the rest of the class has a problem with it, then they can take it up with me."

Bless Hunk, honestly. Sweet, caring Hunk who wouldn't hurt a fly, but would cut somebody for Lance. 

Puberty was starting to hit Hunk like a train. He was tall, taller than Lance and building muscles, but his face retained some baby fat, giving him the most adorable cheeks and smile. Even though he was the sweetest person ever, he didn't appreciate people giving his friends crap, and wasn't afraid to put someone in their place. Just his looks alone intimidated some of the bullies in their class.

"Thanks for offering, Hunk," Lance smiled sweetly, "But I don't need someone fighting my battles for me."

"Yes, Tiffany?" his Spanish teacher pointed at the girl whose hand was raised, cutting off their conversation.

Lance settled back into his seat, and paid attention to the girl, cringing at her pronunciation and identifying and correcting every error she made. Lance still wasn't going to say anything.

 

**[3]**

Signing up for the Galaxy Garrison was one of the turning points in Lance and Hunk's life. Lance was excited; he was going to live with his best friend and become a pilot! He was getting to make his dreams a reality!

Hunk was excited too, ready to start the engineering program he'd studied his butt off for. 

Lance had changed over the years too, slowly accepting the fact that yes, he was Cuban, and yes, he still sometimes mixed up his words because he knew how to speak two languages, and yes, he was a bit darker than your typical White person, which often provoked a few racist remarks from them (but he learned to ignore it and be the bigger person) and yes, he spoke Spanish and yes, English was not his first language (he still had inner conflict over that, though, from his traumatic experiences as a child, dealing with bullies and mean teachers). 

At least, Hunk knew that he spoke Spanish at home, because Lance's entire family was Cuban, and his grandparents never spoke anything other than their native language. The only exception was when Hunk came over, but even then, they would still speak bits and pieces of Spanish to themselves.

But he still never spoke the language around his friends or in the school environment. 

Which would explain the sad pout Lance had on his face. The Garrison's annual Christmas Lunch and Dance was taking place, and Lance's favourite artist, Shakira, was playing. Her sultry words came through the speakers, enthralling the audience with her voice, the perfectly rolled _r's_ and eloquently enunciated words almost hypnotized the audience, the few persons on the dance floor laughing with mirth. 

Lance tapped his foot on the ground in time with the music. This party, he realized, was not for him. He grew up wearing his emotions on his sleeve, learning to live life to the fullest. If he liked a song, he would sing and dance. If he was happy, he smiled. Pretty simple, right? 

Wrong. 

If he did what his heart was telling him and jammed out to his queen, he would immediately become a target. Well, more of a target than he already was. But it was however, okay for the typical White guy to do what he secretly wanted to do and not get judged or bullied because that's how society operated, _amiright??_

Lance blushed angrily and stepped out of the room, while Hunk, and their new friend Pidge, tried to see who could make Lance explode first. 

Unfortunately, Lance's patience was endless and they spent the rest of the night gossiping about their teachers.

 

**[4]**

The days aboard Allura's castle ship seem to stretch on endlessly. Lance briefly wondered about his home.

He missed it all. He missed his mom yelling across the room in Spanish. He missed his little sisters bursting through his room door without knocking, eyes sparkling, ready to tell him about the drama in the latest episode of whatever Soap they were watching with their _abuela_. He missed the loud vibrancy of his home and the loudness of the people who lived there. _He missed his family_.

"Lance, is everything alright?" Pidge asked, looking at him carefully.

"Yeah," Lance lied.

He went back to his room that evening with an empty feeling. He opened his mouth, planning to speak to himself in a bit of Spanish to alleviate some of the nauseous homesickness he'd been feeling.

When he did, he found that he couldn't pronounce some of the words as fluently.

The tears he'd been holding back all day finally fell. That's when he realized he should have never stopped speaking Spanish in the first place.

Hunk was right. Spanish was an important part of Lance's identity, part of who he was. 

And now, he was feeling as if he was loosing an important part of himself.

He was forgetting, and he didn't want to forget the only thing that tied him back to his home.

 

**[5]**

His _abuela_ often taught the younger generation Spanish. They were always excited to learn new words and phrases, and she even asked Lance to help her teach it to them, but he never did.

He taught them swears in private instead.

So when Allura asked for 'earthling team bonding' exercises, Lance actually wanted to suggest he teach them Spanish. 

He remembered now, taking one solid hour every day to speak to himself in Spanish. The foreign words now rolled off his tongue easily, melodiously, as if he were meant to be speaking it. He found himself taking comfort in the smooth r's and b's of his native language, and he was proud of it, for the first time.

His pride was short lived, however, as he was still afraid to share this with the team, lest they decided it wasn't a good enough idea. 

Lest they thought that Lance would use this  as a means to keep things to himself.

So far, Shiro suggested games like twenty questions and various trust building exercises, but Lance still thought that teaching them would be a good exercise too. His family spent hours together when his _abuela_ sat, ready to teach the young ones.

"Lance? Do you have any ideas?" Shiro asked, seeing the pensive look on his face.

_Maybe I could teach you Spanish._

_Maybe that can help the lonely ache in my heart go away._

_Maybe that can help me dream of home again._

"No, sorry," Lance grimaced, looking at their leader apologetically.

He knew it was stupid and that they would all just reject the idea, anyway.

 

**[+1 BONUS]**

Lance could barely see Shiro above him. He gasped, writhing on the bed. Small whimpers left his throat. Shaky hands grabbed the sheets underneath him, pulling them into a vice-like grip. Droplets of sweat rolled down  his neck. 

Hot.

His body was too hot.

He was on fire; his eyes were tightly shut.

"Lance, c'mon. Breathe for me buddy," Shiro caressed his cheek, the cool metal providing delicious friction. 

 _He can't. He can't._ **_He can't._  **

He was on fire. 

_It fucking hurts._

" _Mama, mama_ ," he cried out, vaguely  realizing this language was not English, " _Help me, mama. It's too hot._ "

"Lance, please, you're scaring us," a silvery voice said. accented. shaky. woman.

"Keith, help me get this blood off him," same voice said.

"Okay, what the _fuck_ was on that knife?" a new voice hissed. male. low. soothing. pleasant but terrified. 

He screamed when he felt something cold press against his side. His arms reached out to defend himself, but they were pulled together and pinned above his head. He cried out once again when he felt the thing press against him once more. 

"Some type of poison, it would seem," another voice said seriously. male. accented. comforting and paternal. 

" _Mama, I'm sorry,_ " he wept, " _Make the pain stop! Please, make it stop!_ "

"Pidge, put the cloth on his forehead."

"He's running a fever, guys."

"Coran, can we get the all clear to put him in a pod?"

"I'm sorry, Shiro. His fever needs to cool down first."

"When I get my hands on Lotor, I swear. What the actual _hell_  was he thinking when he jumped in front of the knife?!"

"Language, Pidge. Any of us would have done the same for you."

"Stop bantering, all of you! Our main priority right now is Lance. _Lance, if you fall asleep now, I swear I'll kick your ass six ways to Sunday!_ "

That voice. That voice kept him grounded, kept him holding on before it all became too much, before he couldn't resist falling into the darkness. 

That voice was the one that called for him, that kept begging him on the verge of tears to _please_ come back, to wake up, to respond, _anything._

He dreamed of that voice and purple-grey eyes.

When he finally woke up, he immediately fell forward. A pair of arms, one human, one metal, caught him before he fell face first on the floor. 

" _Where-where am I?_ " He asked, not registering his surroundings, his eyes flying open in panic. 

Shiro cleared his throat, " _Lance, you're in Allura's castle._ "

" _What happened? W-Where am I?_ " Lance repeated, groggily. 

" _Galra invaded the castle and almost put a dagger in Pidge. You pushed her away, but you ended up taking the knife for her and then you passed out in the infirmary,_ " Shiro said. 

"Uh, guys? English please?" Hunk asked, placing a small blanket around Lance's shaking shoulder. 

" _Wait, wait, Shiro, you speak Spanish? Can you understand me?_ " Lance asked. 

" _Yep. I can. Had to take classes at the Garrison in order to be able to have better relationships with the international personnel,_ " he said, " _So I speak five different languages excluding English_."

Lance was then knocked off his balance by something small and orange. 

"Oof," Lance stumbled back, instinctively bringing his arms down and around the tiny figure, Pidge, and asked, "Are you okay?"

Hot tears soaked his shirt. Small sniffles went unheard as he rubbed her back comfortingly. 

"I'm fine. Thank you, Lance," She said, although it was a bit muffled by his shirt. 

"No, thank you guys for taking care of me. You guys are my space family," he said, scanning around the room, looking at each of them, " _I'd do it all again, if I had to._ "

" _It won't come to that,_ " Shiro reassured, in a firm voice.

It was then that he noticed that one hot-headed team member was missing, and Hunk followed his train of thought. 

"Yeah, he didn't leave your, uh, podside, for the three days you were here," Hunk explained, "We only convinced him this morning to leave you long enough to go take a shower, and get some food. Right now, you'll probably find him on the observation deck."

Lance nodded and started wobbling off in that direction. 

"Wait, you're going to look for him?" Shiro asked, incredulously. 

"I want to thank him too," Lance said. 

"Coran, is that safe?" Shiro turned to the advisor. 

"It should be, given that he be cautious," Coran said, "Hear that, Lance?"

Lance nodded, and kept going. When he got there, Keith sat glaring up at the stars. 

"Hey," Lance said quietly, approaching him. 

He turned around and looked at Lance. 

"Hi," he said, "You're awake."

"Yeah," Lance hummed, sitting next to Keith. 

"How are you feeling?" Keith asked. 

"My side hurts a bit when I move.... It kinda tingles, but I'm fine otherwise," Lance smiled, "How are you?"

"I'm fine. Aside from seeing my teammate nearly die, I'm just fine," Keith said, gritting his teeth. 

Lance saw the tears, though. 

"Hey now," Lance swiped his finger under Keith's eye, "What's this?"

"Don't ever scare me-- us like that again," Keith said, ignoring Lance's question. 

Lance laughed, "Wow, Keith. Best be careful, someone might think you actually care."

Ok, so that wasn't the wisest thing to say, judging by Keith's hurt expression. 

"You think I don't care?" He asked, lowly. 

"Ok wait, I didn't mean--"

"Because if I didn't care, I would have let you bleed out on the floor. I would have let you die there. If I didn't care, I wouldn't have lost my shit and gotten Shiro back to the room as soon as I could. I wouldn't have cradled you in my arms and brought you to the infirmary. I wouldn't have cleaned your wounds and I wouldn't have stayed by your side in that pod for three days," Keith spat out, "So don't you ever doubt the fact that I care because I care. I care more than I should. And I do.. I do because _I love you, Lance._ I've been in love with you for a while now. And seeing you there, on that floor bleeding out... If we had lost you, I, uh, I don't know what I would have done. _"_

Lance was the one holding back tears now. Keith had just said, "I love you" in Spanish. Lance had to admit, that was one of the sweetest confessions he'd ever gotten. It meant that someone appreciated him enough to learn his native language to tell him so. Lance suddenly felt warm inside, butterflies blooming in his belly. 

"You do?" Lace asked, heart thudding. 

"I do," Keith said, in the softest voice Lance ever heard from the Paladin. 

Lance smiled, putting an arm around Keith, who rested his head against Lance's shoulder,  "When I was blacking out, there was only voice that kept me going. One voice that kept me grounded. And it was you. So yeah, _I love you too."_

Okay, so maybe he wasn't at home with his family, and maybe the homesickness for them wouldn't go away, but maybe he could create another home with the boy he held between his arms, who Lance didn't know found a sense of home in him, too. 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos make my day, so feel free to leave 'em.


End file.
